To the Bottom of the River
by SpookyClaire
Summary: Blaine doesn't just have one older brother. He had a younger one as well. What happened to the youngest Anderson? Blangst


**To Bottom of the River**: Blaine doesn't just have one older brother. He had a younger one as well. What happened to the youngest Anderson?

_Into the water, let it pull him under_

_Don't you lift him, let him drown alive_

_The good Lord speaks like a rolling thunder_

_Let that fever make the water rise_

_And let the river run dry_

_And I said_

_Hold my hand, oh baby, it's a long way down to the bottom of the river_

It was the sort of thing you read about in the newspaper.

It wasn't something you really thought about beyond "Oh, that's terrible."

But then it happens, and what are you supposed to do?

Benjamin Anderson had only been three years old when it had happened.

Sweet little Benji. He'd been an epic source of entertainment for 9 year old Blaine and 16 year old Cooper. Despite the large age gaps between the three brothers (and Benji's limited vocabulary) they all got along amazingly. Most of their free time they spent with each other. They played games, just hung out, it didn't matter as long as they were together. Blaine and Cooper taught Benji his first word (much to Blaine's delight, it was 'Pooper', and that was all he called the eldest brother). Benji's first steps were towards his two big brothers. And whenever Cooper and Blaine walked through the door after school Benji would squeal and make his way to them, an energetic little welcoming party of one.

But then one day they came home from school and little Benji wasn't there to greet them.

They didn't think much of it, it wasn't a big deal, sometimes their mom took Benji and they went out shopping. They'd be home later.

But they didn't come home later.

They didn't come home ever.

Blaine had been at the dining room table, doing his math homework like a good student. Cooper, ever the mature teen, had been lying on the floor under the table playing his Gameboy like always. The evening had been progressing as usual until their dad had appeared through the front door, home from work early and looking frantic.

"Where's Benji?" He had asked. "Where's your brother?"

Neither son had an answer.

Their father flew back out the front door, shaking his head and chanting 'No, no, no,' over and over again. It wasn't until Cooper and Blaine followed him outside that they saw the police cars.

"What's going on?" Blaine had whispered to his big brother, but Cooper just pulled him close, as bewildered as the pre-teen.

"Dad?" Cooper called, still holding Blaine close, not taking a step away from the bottom step of their stoop. "Dad – dad what's going on –"

But their father didn't answer, didn't even look at them. He had a crazed, almost rabid look to him as he argued with a police officer. Neither of his sons could hear what he was saying until he screamed "_How could she do this_?"

Blaine looked up at his brother, panicked. Both boys were pretty sure who the 'she' was. Their mother had been off, they knew that. She'd always been like that. They knew she'd been taking medication, it helped her to act more like herself. Blaine didn't really understand it, but Cooper did. And now realization was hitting the teen hard.

"Cooper?" Blaine begged, looking for some kind of explanation, but Cooper was already cracking.

"Dad!" the eldest called, panic evident. "Dad – mom – she didn't – Benji –"

"Cooper, what about mom and Benji? What's going on?" Blaine begged, tears already streaming down his face.

But Cooper didn't get to answer as their father stumbled over to the two of them as if drunk. He wrapped them both up tight in his arms and the three sank slowly to the ground.

And their father began to cry.

Blaine had never seen his father cry.

As if on principle, Blaine began to cry with the old man. Cooper soon joined too. And so the three sat on their front steps, sobbing, sobbing, sobbing. The youngest of the three didn't know why they were crying but he couldn't stop.

It wasn't until that night, once they collected themselves, when they went to the cold building downtown that he understood. The building where his mother and his little brother lay in freezers, never to move again. It was then all the words everyone had been saying made sense.

Their mother was on medication. She hadn't taken it in days. She'd been slowly deteriorating and the others of the house didn't put two and two together.

They hadn't lost their mother that night, she'd already been lost.

But Benji…

Benji had only been a child. He'd done nothing wrong. He'd done nothing but be a perfect, sweet, little toddler. Perfect son. Perfect brother. He hadn't lived long enough to do anything wrong, to do something to merit this kind of end.

But it _had_ happened. And now _they_ were the ones in the newspaper. _They_ were ones people read about and whispered, "Oh, that's terrible…"

And what were the three remaining Anderson supposed to do now?

Benjamin Anderson had only been three years old when his mother had taken her car and driven the two of them off a bridge and into a lake.

He was gone.


End file.
